


hurricane

by kurgaya



Category: Naruto
Genre: Awkwardness, Don't copy to another site, Friendship, Gay Panic, Healthy Relationships, Humor, M/M, Morning After, i can't believe that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 17:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: Asuma's got nothing to be self-conscious about and he probably knows it. He is, after all, the heart-throb for half of Konoha - Kakashi included. “Hey, you good?"“I thought you were straight,” Kakashi admits.Asuma laughs. “Mate, I thought you were a top -”





	hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> I'm imagining Kakashi to be about 18 or 19 here, just on the cusp between a stick-in-the-mud teenager and the evasive little shit we know as an adult. He's so gay panic it hurts and I love him and so does everyone in this fic.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Allison, because she's probably the only person who'll read this LOL

There’s a gigantic monkey curled up on the end of the bed.

“Uh,” Kakashi says, screwing his eyes shut and then opening them again. His sharingan spins with the lazy roll of morning. The monkey is still lying there: _a summon_ , for its body swirls like autumn leaves in the red world of Obito’s eye. It's easily the size of Bull: black-furred with a thin, red-tipped tail. It’s watching with dark, intelligent eyes, and Kakashi blinks back stupid and tired, feeling his eyelashes stick together with sleep. He can’t say he’s ever seen this monkey before - or this room, as a matter of fact. The bed isn’t his own and the summon _certainly_ isn’t. But the breeze in through the window is wood smoke and _Konoha_ ; the sunlight is the high morning of Fire. A familiar chakra settles over the room like great clouds bringing the gales. Kakashi feels as though he’s lying in the eye of a hurricane. Since his instincts aren't pinging, he’s probably safe here (wherever _here_ is) rolled up in a duvet and being watched by a monkey, at the centre of Konoha’s oldest and most noble of storms.

He's not in the bed alone. The breath against his neck is windswept, and the arm slung over his waist is dark-skinned and warm. Kakashi goggles at it, recognising the bruised knuckles and chakra-cut hands. Across the bed, the monkey’s sun-dipped tail twitches with amusement and Kakashi stares at that too, afraid to turn and stare at the man cuddling up behind him.

He knows who it is. And he can guess why they’re here.

 _Oh no_ , says the panic seizing in Kakashi’s chest: “Oh no,” he says, and the man behind him stirs. There is laughter against his neck, the _snap!_ of a winter breeze. Kakashi goes absolutely rigid, throwing a plea for help at the sky.

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Asuma drawls, turning his stupid beard and his stupid smile into the pillow. His sigh is almost a yawn, waking slowly and content, and he squeezes Kakashi’s hip through the duvet.

 _You stupid idiot_ , says Obito’s voice. _I thought you were over this crush?_

It takes a stronger man than Kakashi to _get over_ a crush on Sarutobi Asuma. He wills himself not to panic but already he has already struck that flame. The sheets are soft against his bare skin; a little wrinkled underneath. Clothes dot the floor in hazardous piles. He’s not wearing a mask. Swallowing hard, he presses a hand over his mouth and feels dry, over-bitten lips and the heat of his blush. He doesn’t feel hungover and Asuma isn’t freaking out, so whatever happened was probably safe, consensual fun. Asuma is the post-coital furnace that Kakashi had always imagined he’d be, and Kakashi feels himself warming in more than one place at the thought.

He steadies his breathing, forcing himself to calm down. As he does, memories of the previous night return: a chilled evening in Asuma’s apartment; Gai hogging the sofa and a stream of movies; party food and drinks; Kurenai wolfing down an entire plate of prawns. Kakashi doesn’t remember drinking but he does remember Asuma’s goofy smile, calloused hands and a look of surprise, unwinding Asuma’s beloved sash from his waist. It’s probably still folded neatly over the armchair, or maybe Kakashi rocking into Asuma’s lap knocked it to the floor.

Kakashi turns to smother himself in the pillow.

“Hey,” Asuma says, rising carefully, his voice low with concern. He props himself up onto an elbow, blocking the sunlight peeking in through the window. His hand is an remnant of desire on Kakashi’s hip; it lingers like a sweltering summer air before moving away. “You all right? D’you need anything? Hang on -” He twists away and then drops a black piece of fabric by Kakashi’s cheek: his mask.

Kakashi rises just enough to tug it on. He still can’t bring himself to roll over and face this tremendous mistake, but he appreciates the gesture. It’s pathetic to rely on a mask like a security blanket; it’s certainly not hiding his identity in any way, and yet his need to wear it is almost a compulsion. It shouldn’t make him feel safer and yet it does; he’s already safe, he’s with _Asuma_. There are few people in the village that Kakashi trusts implicitly - and all three of them are in this apartment.

“What’s with the monkey?” he asks, trying to sound composed - and failing, as his voice catches on the question. His throat is sore and tight with dehydration. It’s not the only part of him that aches.

“She’s my summon,” Asuma replies, which wasn't a particularly large leap of logic for Kakashi. “Must’ve needed her for something. Keres?”

“You’ve yet to enlighten me as to why I'm here,” Keres says, the silvery fur around her mouth shimmering. Her tail flicks like a golden-headed snake; Kakashi can't read her like he can his dogs. “But I can bide my time. I must say, Hatake is an unexpected visitor.”

She says ‘visitor’ as anyone else would say ‘mistake’.

“Ah, well, not that unexpected,” Asuma says, sounding faintly embarrassed. He sits up and butt-shuffles over to give Keres a scratch, mumbling _sorry love_. Kakashi risks a peek and is rewarded by shameless, _glorious_ nudity and a white-hot rush of guilt.

Keres’ little fangs gleam with a smile. “Is he usually this shy?”

“Nah,” Asuma replies, looking over his shoulder to Kakashi. If he's aware that his arse is on show, then he doesn't seem to mind. He's got nothing to be self-conscious about and he probably knows it. He is, after all, the heart-throb for half of Konoha - Kakashi included. “Hey, you good? You were pretty into it last night, but if you’re not anymore, just say the word.”

“I thought you were straight,” Kakashi admits, which is definitely not _the word_.

Asuma laughs. “Mate, I thought you were a _top_ -”

Kakashi _whumps_ him with a pillow.

“Oh yes, you're right,” Keres says, as Asuma _careens_ off the side of the bed. Half of the duvet goes with him (as does his dignity) and Keres laughs as the future Head of the Sarutobi Clan crashes onto the floor. “Not _that_ unexpected.”

Kakashi grabs another pillow, but the knock at the door saves Asuma from a slow and humiliating death.

“Shower's free,” Kurenai calls from the hallway. She doesn’t open the door, but the whole street probably heard Asuma’s yell. Keres’ laughter is cackling and free. “You boys probably need it.”

Kakashi chucks the second pillow at the door.

Asuma rubs the back of his head as he sits up. He's still not blushing, but Kakashi is embarrassed enough for the both of them. “You wanna shower first?” he asks, propping his chin on the edge of the bed. Now all Kakashi can see of him is his face, but that’s certainly nothing to complain about.

Kakashi stares at a particularly wrinkled spot on the bed, feeling his face flush with heat. What he would like is to leave, to return to his tiny apartment and bury himself under his dogs, but there is something in Asuma’s expression that stops him. He’s not sure what it is. There isn’t anything particularly puppyish about Asuma - not like Gai’s excitability and Tenzō’s just about _everything_. But there is something quite charming about Asuma’s easy smile and his patient, ever so patient eyes. Kakashi could leave - he could body-flicker home in seconds - but Asuma is sitting butt-naked on the floor and asking for nothing, absolutely nothing at all, and it's this that convinces Kakashi to stay.

Gai would probably chase him down and haul him back here anyway. _You should celebrate this milestone of your Springtime of Youth!_ he’d declare, throwing Kakashi over his shoulders. _And it is most unbecoming of a guest to flee their host’s apartment before tidying!_

“Fine,” Kakashi accedes, risking another glance at Asuma’s easy-going smile. It does things to his chest, that smile; squeezes his heart and warms his lungs with slow, content sighs. He’s hopelessly besotted and it’s pathetic: Obito’s right, he should be over this silly crush by now.

 _Oh Kakashi_ , says Rin, for once not screaming her final words in his ears, _Who says it’s a crush?_

If it’s a crush, then it’ll pass. If it’s not a crush, if it’s more than a crush, if it’s something he’s scared to name and terrified to face, then Kakashi needs that shower right about _now_.

 

 

 

“You guys didn’t have to clean up,” Asuma says, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in his tidy apartment. The evidence of their rowdy night is all gone. Dishes line the draining board and the empty cans, bottles, and take-out containers fill the recycling boxes and bins. The coffee machine drips like the clock that Kakashi hasn’t yet checked. With his back to them, Gai dances as he prepares breakfast at the stove, and Kurenai looks over as she tops up her mug of coffee, wet hair tied loosely over her shoulder.

She shrugs and sips her drink. “We figured you’d have your own mess to clean up this morning,” she says, glancing from Asuma to Kakashi over the rim of the mug. To Kakashi, she adds, “But you haven’t run away yet, so he can’t have done too bad a job. You take sugar in your coffee?”

“Enough to kill me,” Kakashi grumbles.

The drink she hands over isn’t lethal, but the look she shoots Asuma is. Luckily, or perhaps not, Gai swoops over with breakfast and diverts most of the damage.

“Good morning Rival!” he announces, setting four bowls of rice and salmon onto the table. A few other dishes follow, each on their own little plates. It's a far more elaborate breakfast than what Kakashi would make himself - on the off-chance he has breakfast - but then again, this is Gai.

Asuma’s eyebrows pinch. He blanches a little, looking cowered, but it's hard to tell if it's because of Kurenai's glare or Gai's dazzling, sunrise-backed victory pose. “Gai, you didn’t have to go through all this effort -”

“Nonsense! A hearty breakfast is the best way to start the day!”

“Unless you count sex,” Kurenai mutters, and Kakashi snorts coffee up his nose.

He sputters most of it back out again, soaking his mask and splashing the table. Gai slaps him on the back and yet Kakashi's hands don't even _twitch_ to skewer him, which says less about the nature of ANBU missions and more about how safe he feels with his friends; with Gai's hand at his back and Kurenai's vigilant gaze, and with the memory of Asuma kissing down between his thighs just hours before.

“Ugh,” Kakashi says, which means a lot of things right now but mostly disdain as he peels his now coffee-stained mask from his face.

Gai whips a new mask out of his jacket pocket. (Kakashi can’t remember when he started carrying spares, but it was… some time ago). Asuma hands over a cloth and replaces the cup of coffee. Kurenai just watches with a smirk, but she does drive her elbow into Asuma's gut as he passes by.

“Thanks,” Kakashi mutters, his ears _burning_.

No one says _you're welcome_ but they all smile.

Kakashi's natural inclination to run from his problems holds off until breakfast is over and done with, after which he finds himself glancing increasingly towards the door. He’s ANBU so he’s subtle about it, but his friends are jōnin and they start to notice, but they don’t say anything about it until all of the dishes are done because they won’t let him off that easy. Kakashi wouldn’t ask them to - in fact he doesn’t; he subtitutes himself for a log - but Asuma won’t stop handing him cutlery and Kurenai is dangerous with a tea-towel, so Kakashi stays.

Asuma smiles as he washes up the last bowl and passes it across, his eyes lingering on the scar that bisects Obito’s eye. Kakashi has all of two seconds to feel self-conscious about it before Asuma looks away, mouth turning down in thought.

“You not find your forehead protector, love?”

He rapts his knuckle on the corner of Kakashi’s brow, where his forehead protector usually sits at a slant. Kakashi startles at the touch, his sharingan snapping open involuntarily and casting a haze of red across the room. Asuma is already moving away, muttering to himself about where the forehead protector could be (“it must be in my room”). Kakashi and Kurenai share a red-eyed look; hers soften in amusement as his spins in confusion.

Gai slides into the space that Asuma has left: just to Kakashi’s right, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Gai’s shoulders are wider than Asuma’s so he really _squeezes_ into the space, but it’s been a long time since Kakashi felt anything except comfort in having Gai at his side. Still, he’s not completely stupid, so he looks between his two friends as though to say, _well get on with it then_.

Gai is the first to fret. “Are you all right, Rival?” he asks, dropping his voice low in case Asuma returns.

Kakashi squashes down a surge of annoyance. He’s not some delicate damsel even if Asuma’s nosy monkey did call him _shy_. He shrugs, feigning ignorance. “You've cooked worse, Gai.”

 _Ah_ , Gai says, barely a sound. The happy flamboyance of the morning has vanished, replaced now by a stern concern. It’s as frustrating as it is flattering, and Gai flounders to correct himself. “That isn't what I meant -”

“The coffee wasn't too bad, either,” Kakashi adds.

“Asuma likes it, too,” Kurenai agrees.

They both turn to her, Kakashi blinking owlishly. He doesn’t mean to, but she has always been blunt enough for all four of them. Her eyebrows climb high into her hairline, a pointed look if Kakashi ever saw one, and then Gai nods, rubbing his chin like an old sage.

“I see,” Gai says. “Forgive me for prying, then, Rival.”

Kakashi shrugs, trying to shake away a strange sense of foreboding. Asuma’s chakra lingers around the kitchen like the aftermath of the hurricane. “It's just breakfast.”

 _A breakfast you’ve only been wanting for years_ , Obito's voice drawls.

 _Shut up_ , Kakashi thinks back. _Shut up shut up shut up -_

“He's not as much of an idiot as you think he is,” Kurenai says, just as Asuma slouches back into the room.

She doesn't mean Obito.

“Here you go,” Asuma says, throwing Kakashi the wayward forehead protector. “You off?”

 _Finally_. Kakashi nods, pulling the forehead protector down over his eye. He doesn’t risk another look at Kurenai or Gai, unsure what he might find. Instead, he gathers lightning-hot chakra at his feet to body-flicker away, but Kurenai shoving him towards Asuma throws a wrench in the works.

Asuma _brightens_.

“Come on, love, I’ll walk you out,” he says, laying a hand on Kakashi’s back. “There’s only so long you can put up with us lot, I know.”

Asuma winks at Kurenai as they exit, but Kakashi’s too busy trying not to panic to notice.

The door has never seemed so far away. Kakashi breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of it, but then Asuma starts to rub his thumb in little circles as though he’s on the verge of saying something, and Kakashi’s knees wobble dangerously. The only people who touch his back are those skilled enough to kill him; those who are lucky enough to get the chance. Asuma certainly could, but instead he’s drumming his fingers into Kakashi’s back without rhyme or reason.

“Thanks for coming over,” Asuma says. “We had a good time last night, didn’t we?”

Kakashi forces himself to pull away. He’s been expecting this conversation all morning. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he replies, which isn’t _quite_ what he intended to say but it’s close enough. Obito is right; it’s just a silly crush. Everything about Asuma is warm, and kind, and _yes_ they had fantastic sex last night, but there’s nothing about Kakashi that anybody could want. Climbing into Asuma’s lap had been thoughtless; rolling into bed with him had been dumb. It was only going to end in disappointment and here they are at the door of despondency, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Well. If that’s what you want,” Asuma says, _not moving his hand_. He’s standing so close that Kakashi can smell the cigarette smoke that will never leave his clothes. “Or I could take you to dinner?”

That’s too good an idea to waste on someone like Kakashi.

“I don’t date.”

“Not even for barbeque?”

Kakashi hesitates. Not over the barbeque - he couldn’t care less about the barbeque - but because Asuma is smiling without any expectation again, as if he’s simply content to be standing here no matter what Kakashi says. It’s unnerving. A shinobi’s way is to fight for what he believes in, so does that not extend to romance? It would make more sense to push Kakashi up against the door and encourage him to stay, but there isn’t any fight in Asuma at all.

 _He's not as much of an idiot as you think he is_ , Kurenai said.

Kakashi sighs, swallowing back a firm rebuttal. He stares at a groove in the door, wondering if he can make Tenzō appear and knock him out by glaring at it long enough. “I’m out of the village a lot.”

Asuma’s smile widens like the cat that got the cream. “I know.”

 _No, you really don’t_ , Kakashi wants to say. “I’m not very good company.”

“Think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m a mess.”

“Sure are.”

Kakashi’s lip twitches. Damn him. _Damn him_. “I really thought you were straight.”

Asuma almost, _almost_ winces. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hate to disappoint you,” Asuma says with a grin. He yanks open the door and the rush of morning air could be his tempestuous chakra spilling out onto the street. Kakashi freezes, realising that this is _the moment_ where people are supposed to kiss, but Asuma just gives him a little nudge out of the door. “Dinner. Just say when and where. I can wait.”

“It might -”

“ _I can wait_ ,” Asuma repeats, shaking his head fondly. “I’ve waited this long, haven’t I?”

Kakashi had hoped he was done with the blushing, but apparently not. Before he can voice something so foolish as _so have I_ , however, he turns and makes a tactical retreat with a body-flicker, his thunderous chakra carrying him into the wind.

(Neither of them have to wait long).

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
